Silence Is Worse
by nerwende90
Summary: Sometimes silence is worse. A look at Dean's behaviour through John's eyes. NOW COMPLETE!
1. Why?

"**Why?"**

"Dean ?"

The four year old boy looked up as his father softly called his name. John kneeled to be at Dean's eye level. "You ready?" he asked, Dean's schoolbag in his hands. Dean nodded yes and reached for it. John was faster though, and he raised his arm so Dean couldn't take his bag. Dean looked quizzically at his father. "You ready?" John asked again, making his eldest frown. He nodded again and held out his hand, waiting for his dad to give him his backpack. But that wasn't good enough for John. "Come on, dude. One word is all I need." He said, his voice tired and desperate. But Dean stared at him with big, sad hazel eyes without saying a word.

It had been like this for four month now. The morning that followed the fire, Dean had asked his dad where his mom was. "With the angels."John had reluctantly answered. Dean's eyes had immediately filled with tears. "Why?" had he asked before sobbing in his father's arms. He never spoke again. John and Bobby had done all they could, but nothing seemed to work. Dean was still resolutely, desperately silent.

"I know you're sad and scared," John went on, "But you can't keep it all inside you know. It's not healthy." And for a second, John thought he saw a flash of sorrow cross his son's eyes. But Dean's mouth remained shut. He sighed and shook his head sadly. "Aren't you gonna say anything?" Dean's lower lip quivered and a tear escaped his eyes. John quickly wiped it and squeezed his son's shoulder "Okay." He said, handing Dean his backpack. "I won't push it."

Dean nodded and grabbed his schoolbag. He gave his father a large (fake) smile and went out to go to the bus stop. Left to kneel alone in the room, John rubbed at his face. When Mary died, he was afraid that Dean would ask questions he couldn't answer. But now, John would do anything to hear him ask these questions. Sometimes, he'd decided, silence is worse.

He stood up and went to see his youngest. He was toying with Dean's old teddy bear happily, oblivious to the drama the family had been through. When he sensed movement, the toddler looked up to see his father and grinned at him. John smiled back, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. His thoughts were with Dean. He couldn't stand his son's quietness. The boy that used to be so happy and so full of life had just stopped talking one day. Granted John wasn't in a sharing-caring mood himself, but he had a father role to play, and he'd be damned before admitting defeat.

Dean stood in front of the school, his arms wrapped around himself to protect his small body from the wind. Mrs. Butterworth stood next to him, frowning as she glanced at her watch for the umpteenth time. Where was the kid's father? He should have been there half an hour ago. She looked down at Dean, who was looking at his feet. What if his dad had an accident? What if he and his brother became orphans? Sorrow filled her heart as a thousand scenarios ran through her mind. She shook her head, willing the awful pictures away and held out a head to Dean.

"Come on, Hon, let's get inside." She said softly. "No need to catch a cold waiting out here, right?" she added with a smile. She could see the hesitation in the child's eyes. He opened his mouth and for a moment she thought he would finally say something. But then he shrugged and took her hands. She put on the best smile she could manage and started to walk toward the entrance. She had her hand on the door handle when Dean's escaped her grip. She abruptly spun around to see Dean run towards the black Impala that had just parked in front of the school.

"I'm so sorry…" John started as he got out of the car and caught Dean just in time when the boy threw himself at him. Mrs. Butterworth opened her mouth to reprimand the eldest Winchester, but one look at Dean made her reconsider. She just nodded and told him he should watch the time for now on. John nodded and got Dean in the car. He fastened Dean's seatbelt and got behind the wheels. He started the engine, and a Metallica song filled the car.

"I'm sorry champ, Sam wouldn't let me go. I had to get him to bed and make him sleep, he wouldn't stop crying." John said after a while. He glanced at Dean who just shrugged in a "not a big deal" way. John sighed and looked back at the road. He knew his son needed time, but his silence was getting suffocating and he didn't know how much longer he could stand it. "Dean." he tried, "Why don't you talk anymore?" Another shrug.

It wasn't the first time John asked him this question, but it always earned him the same answer. Actually every question got that infuriating answer. "It wouldn't hurt, you know." He said. "It might even do you good." This time Dean looked away. _That _meant tears were to come. So John swallowed his frustration and turned up the volume of the radio.

John was slowly but surely going crazy. It had been six months since his eldest had said his last word, and two months since his youngest had said his first. John could still remember the look in his eldest eyes when Sam had smiled at him and said "Dean". He knew he should be a little jealous that Sammy hadn't said "Dad", but somehow it felt right that his first word was his brother's name. Dean had had tears of joy in his eyes as Sam had said it, but he still hadn't talked.

Alone with the television, John sat in the couch with a beer in his hand. He rubbed at his tired eyes and was quite surprise to find them wet. Then a tear ran down his cheek, then another and another. It had been six months since some demon had taken his wife from him, leaving him with a broken four year old boy and a motherless toddler. And tonight, with the kids in bed and no one else in sight resembling a friend, he felt so damn alone. He leaned in to put his beer on the coffee table and buried his head in his hands, sobbing quietly and praying for it all to be just a nightmare.

He was startled by a small hand on his shoulder. Surprised, he looked up to meet Dean's big hazel eyes. The little boy gave his father a sad smile and wrapped his arms around him. John hugged him back, trying to get a hold on himself. He cursed himself for letting Dean see him so weak. He was supposed to be strong for his sons, damn it! He was supposed to comfort them, not the other way around.

"It's okay, Dad." Dean said softly. John froze, unsure of what he'd heard. For a second, he thought he'd imagined it, but Dean let go of him and straightened up to look at him in the eyes. "I'll say anything you want, but don't cry anymore Dad." He said, tears filling his eyes.

Tears fell from John's own eyes as he pulled Dean in the biggest hug he ever gave anyone. "I'll try buddy." He said, giving a half-choked laugh, thanking anyone who was listening for giving him back his son.

* * *

_Another sad fic to add to my collection! I had the song _The Sound Of Silence _by Simon & Garfunkel stuck in my head for no reason, but now it's found a goal! _

_It's a three chapters story, and I will post a new chapter per day like I always do._

_And for the ones who wonder how I pick the titles, it's the last word Dean says before the silence comes. Just pointing it out because it isn't clear, even for me!_

_So see you tomorrow for the second chapter, I hope you liked this one and either way, that you'll review!_

nerwende


	2. Be Careful

**"Be Careful"**

"Sam, that's enough! You're not going, end of discussion!" John yelled. Sam stood across from him with his duffle bag in his hands. Dean stood a few feet away, a crumpled sheet of paper in his numb hands. He read it over and over, trying to make out what it was saying. Sam was admitted to Stanford? He was leaving? And these people _dared_ calling it good news?!

He looked up at his brother, hurt in his eyes. "Sam, why didn't you tell me?" he asked, not caring about the argument that had been going on since Sam had claimed he was leaving.

But Sam ignored him and kept yelling at his father. "Oh yes, I'm going! You can't control me anymore, Dad! I'm leaving whether you like it or not!"

"Like hell, you are!" John shouted, grabbing Sam by the collar. Dean snapped out of his haze and threw himself at them, trying desperately to separate them.

He never saw the punch coming, but it caught him square in the jaw, making him stumble back and fall to the floor. He sat there, too shocked to react. Sam had never meant to hit him, he was just trying to break free. Dean knew it, and it wasn't what hurt him. What actually stunned him was the fact that none of them seemed to even acknowledge the punch. They were still standing face to face like nothing happened.

"I'm warning you, Sam!" John yelled, "If you walk out that door, don't bother coming back!" Sam looked back at him, anger and malice in his eyes.

"Don't worry," he growled, "I didn't intend to." He said before grabbing his duffle and slamming the door behind him. John stood there, staring at the door his youngest had dared to close on him. How could he do something like that? Didn't he know there was evil outside? If he was away, who could protect him?

Out of the corner of his eye, John saw Dean stand up and run toward the door, but he felt too numb to try to hold him back. He ran a hand through his hair and went to sit on the couch, head in his hands.

"Sam!" Dean yelled, as he ran after his brother. "Sam, wait!"

But Sam was as stubborn as his father, and he just kept walking, not bothering to turn around to face his brother. Dean left him no choice, though. He caught up with Sam, grabbed his arm and forced him to spin around. "Listen to me, Sam…"

"No!" Sam said, breaking from Dean's grip, "Whatever you're gonna say won't change my mind, okay? I'm leaving, Dean. For good."

Sam didn't miss the sad look in his sibling, but he was too proud to acknowledge it. Dean looked down for a second, trying to loosen the knot in his throat. "I'm not here to ask you to stay, Sam." He said softly. He raised his moistened eyes to look at Sam. "I'm offering you a ride to Stanford." Taken aback, Sam stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do. Dean gave him one of his trademark smirks. "Come on dude, I'm not the big bad wolf. It's just a ride." Sam smiled a little at that, and finally he nodded.

None of them talked during the ride. What was there left to say? Everything that needed to be explained had been yelled out in a cheap motel room. So they let Metallica and AC/DC talk for them. Sam had never experienced one of Dean's silences before. John would have recognized the symptoms, but Sam couldn't.

"Thanks for the ride." Sam muttered as they arrived in front of the large building that was the University of Stanford. He quickly got out of the car and slammed the door.

"Wait!" Dean called as he got out too. He fished something out of his pocket and shoved it in Sam's hand. Sam looked down to see an envelope. He peeked in it and gaped at his brother.

"But Dean…" he stammered as he looked back down at the bills that filled the envelope. Dean silenced him with a raised hand.

"Five grand" he said. "That should do." He smiled sadly at his brother, wondering where the years had gone. It seemed like it was yesterday that Sam had said his name for the first time. Now there he was, ready to start a new life, leaving his family behind.

"Where did you get all that money?" Sam asked.

"Pool." Dean replied matter-of-factly. "I saved it for the rainy days. And it's a freaking shower today if you ask me."

Sam shrugged. "Thanks." He said, shoving the envelope in his pocket. His anger hadn't completely vanished, and he still wanted to get away from anything and anyone that reminded him of his father. "I'll call you." He muttered as he swiftly took off, not bothering to say goodbye.

"Sure Dean said, knowing for a fact that Sam was lying. "Be careful." He called, not sure Sam actually heard him. He watched as his brother disappeared into the night, wondering not for the first time what he had done wrong.

* * *

"Why are you alone?" John asked as Dean stepped back in the room. Dean looked at him and shrugged. John sighed. "Damn kid never learns." He muttered before taking another sip of his beer. He looked at Dean and frowned. "How's your jaw?" he asked. Dean shrugged again. John felt something grip at his heart, but he was unable to know what it was. "Let me see." He asked.

Dean rolled his eyes, but he allowed his dad to look at the red spot on his cheek, wincing as he lightly poked as it. "You're gonna have a hell of a bruise in the morning." Dean smiled slightly and started to walk toward the bathroom. But John grabbed his arm, forcing him to stay. Dean looked back at him, confusion in his eyes.

"I know what you're doing." John said. Dean froze for a second then sadly shook his head. He knew his father would guess, but he was so not ready for another shouting spree. "You're not four anymore, Dean!" John yelled, shaking his eldest as his anger chose an innocent victim to take everything out on. "Say something, damn it!" John yelled again before giving Dean a strong shove, making him hit his hip on the counter. Dean winced in pain, but didn't say a word.

After two years of silence, only interrupted by "Yes, sir" and "No, sir" at the right places, Dean woke up one day to find the bed next to his empty. He searched the room for a note and found it on the table. Coordinates with an order to check it out were scribbled hastily on the small sheet of paper. No "be careful", no "I'll be back soon", not even a "Goodbye".

Dean scrambled the paper and threw it in the trashcan. He tried to call his father but only got his voicemail. He hung up and dialed Sam's number. Voicemail again. Just like the last time he'd called. Not only Sam never called, but he never picked up the phone or returned the calls either.

Alone in another crappy motel room, his father on a hunt somewhere and his brother in some school far away, Dean did the only thing he could think of.

He sat down and cried until he had no tears left.

* * *

_A lot of people have imagined the day Sam left for Stanford, this is my version! Hope you liked it._

_The third and last chapter is for tomorrow._

nerwende


	3. You're Scaring Me

**"You're scaring me"**

John sat by Dean's bed, watching as machines breathed for him. He could see the cuts and bruises on his face and he tried to concentrate on them to forget the wound on his chest. The wound _he _had caused. Yes, he was possessed. But he should have been able to stop it, damn it! He should've done something to stop that demon from ripping through Dean's chest with invisible fingers like it was trying to dig his heart out. He would never forget Dean's pleas as blood soaked his shirt. _"Dad, don't you let it kill me! Dad, please…"_ John shifted in his chair as a chill ran down his spine.

The room was quiet, apart from the various machines attached to Dean's lifeless body. The monitor was beeping, the ventilator was hissing and there were people coming and going in the corridors. But, although it was fairly annoying, neither of these was louder than Dean's silence.

John took a shaky breath, feeling like helplessness was gonna consume him. No matter what he said, no matter what he did, his son was still dying. _'No parent should have to bury their child__.' _He thought, remembering the line from _The Lord of the Rings_. Dean had loved that movie, but he had begged his dad not to tell Sam. "_Don't wanna sound as geek as he is._" He'd said. John chuckled dryly at the memory.

When Dean had lost his mom, John had really thought he would never talk again, and that had scared the crap out of him. After Sam left, Dean merely answered when questioned and that was that. When they met again in that motel room only a few weeks ago, John hadn't mentioned it or the fact that Dean talked again like he'd never stopped.

But this time, it was worse. This time his silence could last forever. John felt a hole digging in his chest, making it hard to breathe. He'd taken Dean through hell and back again, but it was the first time the thought of him dying felt so vivid. And it was unbearable.

That's why John made a decision that would change his boys' lives forever. Taking one last glance at his first born, he stood up and went back to his room. He needed his boy back, and there was only one way to do it.

* * *

When John came in Dean's room, he felt like his heart would burst out of sheer joy. Even though he knew what it meant, the sight of his son awake and breathing on his own was probably the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Avoiding another fight with Sam wasn't easy, but John made it anyway. He tried to stay strong, but reality caught up with him. As he watched Sam leaving, he couldn't help but think it was the last time he'd see him. Fear and sorrow crept into his heart. He knew he'd saved Dean's life, but now all he could think of was the fact that he would be dead in a moment, leaving his sons alone in the broken world.

"What is it?" Dean asked, not the least bit fooled by his father's brave behavior. John braced himself and managed to look at his son.

"You know," he started, "When you were a kid…I'd come home from a hunt. And after what I'd seen, I'd be…I'd be wrecked. And you'd…come up to me, and you'd put your hand on my shoulder, and you'd look me in the eye, and you'd…" his voice broke as he fought his tears. He needed to go on though. He knew Dean would figure out what had saved his life and blame himself for his father's death. Because Dean was Dean was Dean. The least John could do was let him know how he felt about him.

"You'd say, 'It's okay, Dad.'" John went on. "Dean, I'm so sorry."

Dean looked so small right now. He seemed so scared, so fragile… It reminded him of the night after the fire. He had the same lost look on his face. "For what?" the younger man asked.

John couldn't define what was worst. The life he'd given his son or the fact that it all seemed so normal to Dean. "You shouldn't have had to say that to me. I should've been saying that to you." He clarified. "You know, I put…I put too much on your shoulders, I made you grow up too fast. You took care of Sammy, and you took care of me. You did that. And you didn't complain, not once."

A single tear made its way down John's cheek, but he didn't even try to wipe it away. "I just want you to know…that I am so proud of you." He said finally, now dangerously close to tears.

"Is this really you talking?" Dean asked, and John would laugh if his heart didn't feel so heavy.

"Yeah. Yeah, it's really me." He says, silently begging his son to believe him.

"Why are you saying this stuff?" Dean asked.

John took a breath and stepped closer, resting a hand on his son's shoulder. "I want you to watch out for Sammy." He said. _'Death wish'_ a sinister voice whispered in his mind. "Okay?" he asked Dean, barely holding it together.

He looked at his son, who seemed close to tears himself. "Yeah Dad, you know I will." Dean said. "You're scaring me." He added, and John had to suppress the urge to hug his son one last time. He didn't want him to suspect anything, it would only make things worse.

Because there was something else John needed to tell Dean, and he knew it would only be an extra weight on his already heavy shoulders. He would give anything to keep his son from the secret he'd been keeping since, but he also knew he had no choice.

"Don't be scared, Dean." he said. Then he leaned down and told Dean the most difficult words he'd ever had to form. He couldn't ignore Dean's shocked face when he pulled away, and he hated himself for doing this to his son. He nodded, hoping Dean would understand how sorry he truly was. Then, without a word, he exited the room.

Resting the colt on a counter, John faced his death with teary eyes. "Okay." He just said. He felt guilty for leaving both of his sons, but they were both safe, and that was all that mattered.

All his life John had feared Dean's silence. Now, Dean was gonna have to deal with his.

**The end**

_That's it, folks. Thanks for those who took gave a little of their time to this story and a big thanks for those who thought it was worth reviewing!_

nerwende

* * *


End file.
